Suicide Hotline
by Verbophobic
Summary: Predator stalking the depressed, Keifer was pressed. Victim was picked, Kiefer was ticked. Saved was the girl, Her mind a whirl. He was her savior, so he needed to be on his best behavior.


**So here's a different type of Phonebooth thing. Gotta keep up with the times, ya know? **

Phonebooth Oneshot: Internet Predator; Part One

The last phone booth removed, only a few corner phones remain. This new age has become more technological, every person has a cell phone a laptop and iPod or some type of music player that no longer needs a CD let alone tape. The predators of the human race need a way to keep up. From using knives to guns, from unprotected rape that leaves DNA behind to condoms, the newer age has brought along with it smarter criminals. Criminals that know better how to evade the police. The police, well they are still back in the eighties.

One such criminal has been 'put out of business', in a way. His phone-booths have all been but removed. So when one stalks other predators though a phone booth and that phone booth is taken down, he must change his ways too. The internet, the most unsecured place where people can get away with virtually anything.

A once successful serial killer that had stalker other predators though the phone booths on the corners now signed into the internet on a laptop. His latest victim was using a suicide hotline chat to convince young women to meet with him in person and rape them. He filled out his profile to the exact requirements that the man would end up being the one to help him. A false name, Felicia Davids, false birth date, eight teen years of age yesterday. One thing was true on the profile though, he did indeed live in NYC.

Help number 22 popped up on the chat and the blonde man with glasses smirked. He looked over the other girls in the chat and his eyes locked onto one particular one. Fallon. She was another eighteen year old. On the chat all you could see about anyone else is their age and first name. If this Fallon girl was in NYC, then he had to work fast. He was a killer of killers, he tried to save innocent lives if possible. The chat started with five people and was soon just three. Help 22, Fallon, and himself. Icy blue eyes watched the screen as his fingers typed out lies as fast as they could. But it was too little too late. Fallon and 22 went into a private chat for a few moments before Fallon signed out.

Kiefer, for that's his real name, hacked into the chat and saw what he had wanted to not see. The girl lived in NYC and in two hours was meeting with the guy. Kiefer raced to get to the meeting place and set up before either person arrived. He'd just gotten back up the third story window after placing a disposable phone on the ground when the girl arrived. She was a pretty young thing, nineteen or twenty, not eighteen. Her dark black hair cascaded down her back in waved until it reached the middle of her back. Her eyes were most defiantly a three toned honey color. The gun pointed at her so he could look through the scope Kiefer nearly didn't notice the man coming up.

Changing who he looked at he was disgusted by what he saw. The man had to be late fifties or early sixties. But he'd kept care of himself, he was still strong. Reaching for his ear Kiefer hit the redial button. The phone range and the man froze, his eyes dating all over. It was the girl who located the phone and Kiefer groaned, no! The man was supposed to answer. Kiefer would tell the man all he's done wrong then kill him anyway. The girl would just stand there scared until he pulled the trigger then she'd run away terrified. She'd be more suicidal until she learned of what the guy really was then think of this as some sign of God, but she was not, absolutely NOT, supposed to answer the phone~

"Hello?" Her low alto voice asked. At least he now knew what she sounded like.

"Put the man behind you on the phone and go home." Kiefer said after a minutes debate about what to say. "If you are that desperate to talk to someone about your life, depression and suicidal tendencies, give me your number and I'll call you later. Then put the rapist behind you on and leave." He noticed her start to turn around to look for the man, "no!" Kiefer yelled making her jump. "Do not look or he might attack. Just do as I told you."

"M-my number is-" she gave him her phone number and neither knew why. Perhaps she was really just that lonely that she needed to talk to someone, anyone even a weirdo on the phone.

"Good. Now Hand over the phone and go home. At eight thirty make yourself a hot drink and I'll call you by eight thirty-five." Fallon turned around to face the old guy who had been steadily creeping up on her. He froze upon being spotted and she held the phone out.

Though the speaker he could hear her say, "It's for you." Hesitantly the man took the phone.

"If you hang up, I'll shoot you where you are. Look at the girl, you see that red dot?" Kiefer turned on the laser sight and it was on the girl, right where her heart was. She looked at it but didn't seem to be afraid in the least. Perhaps her suicidal want made her not fear death by his hand or her own. But Kiefer was not a man for killing innocents, only those who have sinned much worse then himself.

The red dot moved down the girls body, almost sensually caressing her, across the ground and onto the man. It stopped moving once it reached his heart. The girl then turned and started to leave. "Good girl," crooned Kiefer, "now, you disgusting old man. What is your biggest sin? Your deepest, darkest, secret?"

.~:*:~.

Fallon sat on her bed facing her window, watching the abandoned building across the street. She could see the pigeons and rats all moving around, claiming places to rest at. It was as a large flock of pigeons took flight and a nest of rats quickly evacuated from a section of the building did she notice a dark shadow moving along until it was close to parallel with her room.

She guessed it was the guy from the phone from earlier for it was now eight thirty-two. It looked like he set something up. Possibly his gun from before. If it weren't for her death wish, she would have been terrified. But hey, if this guy killed her he'd be doing what she'd always been too scared to do herself. She watched her clock and watched and the second hand tick by, tick-tock tick-tock, it went. One second became two and two to three until all three minutes passed and eight thirty on the dot her phone began to ring.

"Hello?" she asked into the receiver.

"Hello, Miss Fallon," the same husky male voice from earlier replied, "how has your day been so far?"

"Oh you know, the usual. Contemplated suicide, went into a chat. Ended up talking to an online predator and making plans to meet him because of my depression and need to speak to someone. Then what do you know a guy with a gun calls a disposable phone and tells me he'll talk to me later. Just normal things. And the most normal of all, said guy with gun actually does call. So nothing too exciting or abnormal, how about you?"

"For a depressed suicidal kid, you've got a knack for good sardonic humor. So why would someone with the ability to be this funny, be suicidal?"


End file.
